Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“That’s her choice.”
“Come on, bullshit. If you walked over there, kicked in that door, and kissed her, you know she’d kiss you back.”
I tilt my head. “You’re probably right.”
“So why not do it?”
“Imagine that happens. Then what?”
She frowns. “Then you’re just together.”
“Are you sure? You think Isabel doesn’t find some other reason to freak out? You think she doesn’t start wondering if I manipulated her into feeling this way? If I make the move, she’ll always look over her shoulder, second-guessing.”
“God, you are both insane.” Allison rubs her face. “I think you guys like this. I think you’re both just too comfortable with this weird, fucked-up arrangement, but it can’t last forever. Something’s gotta give. She’s living for your movie nights, staying home all the time so she can be close to you; basically, her world revolves around your stupid truck.”
A strange thrill runs through me. I knew that already, I’d noticed it a while ago, but hearing Allison confirm it gives me a strange emotion.
It’s hope, raw hope, something I didn’t know I was capable of experiencing.
“When she’s ready,” I say with a shrug.
Allison groans. “You’re both insane. Genuinely insane.”
“Have this conversation with her.”
“I’ve tried. A lot.”
“Then she’ll end this when she’s ready.” I settle back and return to watching the house.
Allison walks off, muttering to herself. I order them a good meal, and I smile when Isabel gives me a little thank-you wave from the porch before disappearing insane.
More time passes. Work gets busy, staying in my truck gets hard. I don’t change a thing, even if the pressure’s mounting and I really should return to the office.
One night, Allison’s back at the Lincoln for a party. It’s a rave thing, which means she’ll be gone for a while, and a storm’s blowing through town. A bad storm, an ugly one. Wind screams through trees, thick rain and hail pound my windshield. I can’t see the house through the commotion.
My phone rings.
“It’s really bad out there,” Isabel says. Her voice is tiny.
“You’ll be okay. Your house is solid.”
“I know, it’s just—” A massive gust of wind tears through, and she sucks in a surprised breath. “It’s like a hurricane.”
“Let’s put on a movie, or maybe we can watch a show.”
“Yeah. Sure. Okay.” She sucks in a breath until another gust hits hard enough to make a nearby tree creak. One of the limbs cracks once, twice, then it slams down onto the sidewalk. “Fuck, Conlan, I need you.”
I throw my door open. The rain hits me hard. Hail smashes against my shoulders and my face. I charge to her house, running through the mess. More wind nearly knocks me over. The tree branch lies in a mess of leaves and broken wood, half in the street. I run up her porch, grab her doorknob, yank it open—
And there she is, holding the phone to her ear.
Waiting for me.
Chapter 43
Isabel
There he is, dripping wet from the short run to my porch, holding his phone to his ear, coming to rescue me.
“Hey,” I say, lowering my cell down.
“Are you okay?” He steps closer. Worry etches across his face.
“I’m fine. I just feel silly, that’s all. I shouldn’t be so nervous, this wind is just insane.”
“I know.” He stares at me. He’s so beautiful in his soaked-through t-shirt. “You’re safe. I promise.”
“Conlan.” I clutch my phone. I feel the lines blurring, the careful world we built beginning to crack.
It’s been breaking down for a while now, ever since we started watching the movies together, accelerated by the phone sex.
But I’ve been so scared. I haven’t wanted to end this thing we’ve had, this special and bizarre thing, except I know it can’t last forever.
“You don’t have to explain. I can stay right here on your porch if you want. I don’t mind.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. Tears spring into my eyes and I’m fighting past a lump in my throat. “I can’t keep doing this.”
“Isabel—”
“No, listen, please. This hasn’t been about not trusting you for a long time now. I think it’s just, I’m afraid to leave this house, afraid to move on with you, afraid of what it would mean and afraid of myself, but I can’t keep doing this to you. I don’t want to do this to you anymore.”
“You don’t owe me that.”
“I know, I know, but I want you, Conlan.”
“I know you do.”
“Come inside. Please, come inside.”
He steps toward me. He touches me softly, and a spark ignites in my core. “I love you,” he says quietly. “I’ve loved you for a long time now, and I’ll keep on loving you whether I’m in my truck or in your bed. I don’t care where I am, what I’m doing, so long as I’m near you. I love you, Isabel.”
“I love you too,” I say.
And he kisses me. Finally, after months of wanting this to happen, finally he kisses me and I kiss him back, and it feels right. It clicks into place, it connects all the dots, it fills in all the missing pieces, covers over all my flaws.